Familiarity Breeds What Again?
by Catherine Wheels
Summary: Kate absconds Queenie, Burrs wants to celebrate Thanksgiving 'the right way', and Jackie needs a place to stay for the weekend. Hopefully there's enough gin. -The Wild Party, set prior to the event.-
1. Minus 1, Plus 1

A/N: This will probably be about 3 chapters long, I imagine... The Wild Party (and Oliver!, for which there is a fanfic in the workings) has eaten my life. Burrs, Jackie, and Nadine for the most part, honestly. I don't even like Jackie!

* * *

"Burrsie, have you seen my camisole?"

"Why the hell do you need it if you're just going with Kate?"

"Because it's what I sleep in. If I have nothing to sleep in, then I sleep naked. And I don't think you'd want that, would you?"

"I'm just wondering," Burrs stood up and came to lean on the bedroom door frame. "Why you couldn't just take a nightgown or something."

Queenie sighed deeply before turning around, glaring. "Because I don't own one. It's not logical for me to own something old-fashioned and frumpy."

"Apparently it is."

"It wouldn't have to be if you didn't keep such damn tight ropes on me all the time, sweetheart," Queenie put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with disgust.

Burrs shrugged half-heartedly, "You would sleep with every man you saw if you didn't have a bit of guidance, love."

They were silent for a moment before Queenie slammed her suitcase shut and pushed pashed her lover muttering in annoyance. "Fine then. I'll just sleep naked."

"It's in the wash," Burrs called over his shoulder.

It had been a week since the fateful trip was decided. The concept hurt Burrs' ego more than Queenie's harsh words as of late. Thanksgiving was supposed to be spent with family, right? And weren't they as close to family as either of them were going to get?

Kate didn't seem to think so. She had the audacity to appear last Sunday with 'wonderful news' about her cousin in Buffalo… An invitation to go away for Thanksgiving weekend. Of course, Queenie took up the offer without even thinking. How dare she? Didn't she have a heart? Or, more importantly, a brain?

Queenie took the damp camisole from the clothes line that ran along the long the large studio windows and shoved it haphazardly into her luggage. "Thank you."

"You could still say no."

"Why would I?"

"So we can spend an all-American holiday together? Isn't it a tradition for families?"

"Ha!" Queenie forced a laugh, "Since when are we a 'family', Burrs? Am I wearing a ring? I don't think so. You'll be fine."

Burrs frowned deeply, and moved to stand beside her. "I'll be lonely."

"Go spend a paycheck with Madeline or The Brothers or someone."

"I don't like Madeline. She makes me nervous. And The Brothers won't want anything to do with me. Just because we agree on music doesn't mean we agree on much else."

"It's always something with you… Oh!" Queenie spun around, "that's the bell. I bet it's Kate now. Could you go get the door? Tell her I need to finish brushing my hair."

Burrs shuffled to the door, opening with a deep sigh, and being nearly knocked off his feet by a whirlwind of tweed-suited energy. "Say, Queenie, dear, I just got back from Chicago and had a most lovely time with my old friends but they had the most dreadfully boring parties. Oh, I thought I might die. All so stiff and cold! And the booze was just awful. Does it change consistency when you ship it inland? God, I'm so glad I live in New York. Can you imagine… Oh, hello Burrs. Good gracious, is it a requirement that every time I see you, you put on a frown?"

"What are you doing here, Jackie?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm staying here this weekend with you and Queenie because my apartment still smells like sewage from the pipe bursting in the basement. And it's Thanksgiving! Time for friends and family!"

"You aren't related to me in any way, and I wouldn't call us friends."

Jackie grinned, "Well, I'm friends with Queenie."

"Who happens to not love me enough to bother spending a holiday with me."

"That's a lie, Burrsie. I just want some sort of harmony." Queenie appeared from the bathroom, a comb still in her hand. "Hello, Jackie, love! You're welcome to stay if you can put up with him. Kate will be here any minute… I think that's our taxi down there. Alright, loves. Have a good weekend."

"As good as it can be whilst I am abandoned by you," Burrs said with a complacent smile, his eyes full of fury.

"Be brave." Queenie kissed his cheek, headed back into the bedroom to get her bag, and then left, down the stairs in a flash of blue and gold.

Jackie and Burrs were left staring at the taxi as it pulled away, watching the two women as they waved goodbye, laughing with each other.

"So…" Jackie fidgeted nervously. "Do I stay?"

"What do I care?" Burrs was already headed back to the studio, his hands in his pockets, his demeanor an angry slouch.

"Um… It's your flat…" Jackie followed him. "So do I stay?"

"Like I said. What do I care? Weather you stay or not, it makes no difference to me."

Jackie was quiet for a moment before making up his mind and promptly wrapping his arm around Burrs' shoulders. "You'll be awfully lonely if I don't stay. Feel free to thank me for considering you deep torment."

"I'll be sure to do that."


	2. Cooking is not Baking

A/N: So, this is kind of a crack fic, if you haven't picked that up yet... Maybe it'll have four chapters? Either way, the next definately involves drunkeness and burnt pie crust.

* * *

"I think we should get a turkey."

"What?"

"Yes. Yes, that's what we should do. After all, if we spend all day preparing for tomorrow, you won't get a chance to sulk."

"I'm not sulking," Burrs snapped, looking up from his breakfast. "And why do you want a turkey?"

"Because, silly," Jackie leaned in on the table, his face betraying no emotion. "It's Thanksgiving. We used to eat turkey on Thanksgiving when I was a child. Didn't you?"

"No. We used to eat pork."

"Then let's get pork!"

"Why are you so intent on getting food at all? There's a deli 'round the corner."

Jackie sighed heavily. "I want us to go and get food so that we can prepare it, and you can stop having a pity-party for yourself. Frankly, it's pathetic."

"You don't have to stay here, you know." Burrs stood quickly, his chair scratching against the tile floor.

Jackie watched him with slight amusement. What on Earth was he so upset about? It was the truth. He was being stupid to think that he was the most betrayed man ever to live. Many other men had it much worse.

"At least you're better than you were last night."

"Oh?" Burrs was staring out the window above the sink, his hand on the faucet, but not turning the water on. "And how's that?"

Jackie grinned wryly. "You pretend not to know? All you did last night was listen to the radio and pretend to read Sinclair."

"How does one pretend to read?" There was an angry, sarcastic stress on 'pretend', as though it were an insult.

"Well," Jackie stood, clearing the rest of the table and putting it in the sink, gently placing his hand on Burrs', turning the water on, "It's easy. One just reads the words, but doesn't think about them. It's how school-boys read. Distracted reading is not reading. Especially when you're distracted by an imagined wrong."

Burrs took a step back, shaking his hand as though he had touched something rotten. "Fine then. We'll go and get a damn turkey. Are you happy?"

"More than I was five minutes ago, yes. But not entirely."

They looked at each other for a brief moment without saying anything. Then Burrs shook his head in something like bafflement. "Alright, Jackie. I'll change my shirt and we'll go get food and some more gin."

It had begun to snow during the night, and the rooftops and streets were lined with crisp, cold icicles and thousands of unique snowflakes that had no distinguishing features to tell the observer that there was any sort of difference at all. The whole city was like that. If taken pictures of, it would lose that precious sense of individuality. The faces were blurred like snowflakes of no particular color.

"Did you ever make snowballs as a child?" Jackie asked, packing snow into lumpy spheres. His hands were turning a bright shade of pink.

"I think I must have, but honestly, I don't remember," Burrs sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to breathe in the freezing air. Winter had always been his favorite season. It changed the world around from something that smelled like gasoline and death to nothing at all.

"You had an awfully sad childhood… Pork and no fun…"

"I had fun in my own way."

"Alright, whatever you say. Catch!" Jackie spun around and tossed the snowball.

Burrs made an unenthusiastic attempt to catch it out of the air, but it crumbled in his fingers and sprayed his face with cold flakes that quickly melted into tiny droplets of water. "That was cruel."

"Ah, don't be a poor sport."

The grocery store was five blocks down the street, run by an old woman and her consistently disgruntled son.

"What can I help you gentlemen with today?" the woman asked, peering at them with scrutiny over her half-spectacles.

Jackie bowed slightly, "Thank you for your most generous offer, madam! A turkey, some cranberry sauce, fixings for a pie of any sorts, preferably fruit or pumpkin, and as much gin as we can legally carry out of this fine establishment."

"Do you have to be a cad?" Burrs grumbled quietly. "Really Jackie…"

The woman's son helped the two find what they needed, but refused Jackie's request for help carrying the bags. He did not, however, refuse Jackie's five dollar tip.

"Now, say," Jackie shifted his bags awkwardly as they walked back to the flat. "I hope you know how to cook."

Burrs was silent for a moment before laughing so hard he was forced to stop walking to catch his breath. "Yes," he finally managed. "I can. And you're damn lucky I can. Can you imagine what we'd do with all of this if I couldn't?"

"We'd give to the homeless in a selfless show of how considerate we are?"

"We'd probably give it to the landlord."

They grinned at each other, and Jackie descended into thought. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile."

"What?" Burrs scanned Jackie's face inquisitively. "Sure you have. Haven't you seen my act?"

"Well, yes… But that's not a real smile. That's a performance smile. I can make a performance smile when I dance, but it's never the real thing. You don't do enough to make yourself happy, do you?"

"And you do too much."

"Maybe so," Jackie muttered, "But I enjoy it."

They were silent for the rest of the walk. Burrs had been taken aback by Jackie's surprisingly thoughtful comment. Perhaps he wasn't as fake as originally supposed. Maybe it hadn't been such a bad idea to have him staying over this Thanksgiving.

"Set the oven for four-hundred-fifty degrees, would you?" Burrs said, setting his bags down.

Jackie obeyed after staring at the oven for a while, apparently trying to find the heat, or trying to figure out what indicated the heat at all. "And now what?"

"Now, I'll pour us a drink, and you can show me how to make a pie. Which I presume you know how to do, or you wouldn't have asked for all the fixings…"

Jackie was silent for a long time before barely squeaking. "Didn't you say you could cook?"

Burrs turned from the cupboard, set the glasses down, and fixed Jackie with a cold stare. "That's not funny."

"I…"

"I know how to cook. I don't know how to bake. There is a difference."

"Well, yes, but…"

"What happens if this pie explodes in the oven? Did you get enough out of your inheritance to pay for a building?"

"I might have…"

"You'd better pray you did." But Burrs' intensity faltered and he ended up shaking his head, giving the glasses to Jackie, "Now, pour us a drink and let's pretend we know what we're doing."


	3. Death Operas

A/N: Alright. This will have four chapters. By the way, I actually made pie this weekend, but it didn't burn. Good stuff.

As much as Jackie annoys me, I think he's starting to work his way up on my favorite characters list. At least, I think that he and Burrs play off each other well. The sliding scale of cynisism versus idealism...

* * *

Chapter 3

"Open a god-damn window, you clod!"

Jackie coughed and stumbled over to the sink, pushing the window open and letting the fresh air in. Burrs followed quickly, setting the burnt pie crust on the sill.

"Do we put fruit in it now?"

"I don't know!"

"Should we have put the fruit in before we cooked it?"

Burrs fixed Jackie with a glare. "Why did you suggest that before we stuck this in the oven?"

"I…" Jackie squirmed uncomfortably, trying to avoid eye-contact, "I don't know… Because I didn't think we'd need to?"

"Well, apparently we did!"

"I'm sorry, alright? How was I supposed to know! You're the one who said you could cook!"

"The damn turkey is cooking as we speak, isn't it? And who was the one who suggested for us to get the damn pie fixings in the first place?"

Jackie took a step back, "Well… I thought you wanted to have an old-fashioned Thanksgiving…"

"An old-fashioned Thanksgiving doesn't have cherry pie, you idiot! Pumpkin pie, Jackie! You should have said we didn't want cherry, we wanted pumpkin!"

"I… Do you want another drink?"

Burrs sighed deeply, a slight smile softening his features. "Fine. But first open the cans of fruit. Let's finish this fiasco."

"I thought you were really angry…" Jackie said, laughing nervously as he began to open the container. "You had me scared."

"Well," Burrs poured himself another shot of gin, "I suppose I've got to give you credit for at least trying."

"Trying what?" Jackie poured the cherries into the blackened pie bottom, gingerly touching the hot glass. "Do we let this sit for a while?"

"Just… trying. You didn't have to do any of this, really. And yes, let that sit for about five minutes so that it doesn't explode. The more I think about it… We probably shouldn't have tried to make that today."

"Why not?" Jackie sat down at the table, looking across the small kitchen.

"Because the turkey needs to sit over night at a fairly high temperature, and by tomorrow, the pie will be cold."

"Hm."

"Well," Burrs drank quickly, setting the glass down and looking at the bakery fiasco, "I guess that's not so bad. But I would have preferred it warm. And all of this is for tomorrow… Do you want to get a sandwich from the corner deli tonight?"

"Sure." Jackie leaned back, "I'm glad I decided to stay with you and not… Eddie and Mae or something."

"You wouldn't have been able to stay with them. He has family, remember?"

"Oh… That's right. Well, I'm sure I wouldn't be having such a good time with anyone else. Eddie and Mae… Say, didn't we meet at their wedding?"

Burrs laughed quietly, "God, that was a spectacle, wasn't it? I thought it was going to end right there."

Jackie grinned, "I didn't like either of their families. Especially not hers. Considering they came just to pick on her…"

"I didn't mind her siblings…"

"She has siblings?"

Burrs shrugged, pouring himself more to drink and filling a glass for Jackie, moving over to the table. "Maybe they were cousins. I don't know. Younger than her, to be sure."

"I just remember his grandmother being the only sane one. You were blind drunk that evening," Jackie took a small sip, "And Eddie kept telling you to quiet down, or he was going to have to break one of your ribs."

"I don't remember that," Burrs mumbled, "I just remember that Eddie's family seemed nicer than Mae's. And that Queenie kept flirting with one of Eddie's cousins."

"No she didn't," Jackie's rueful laugh was more like a sigh. "She was getting food. One of Eddie's cousins helped the caterer. Really, Burrs. How do you take that for flirting?"

Burrs stared emptily at the oven and the pie on the windowsill. "I don't know. It's not my strong suit to think of these things."

"Do you enjoy thinking it?" Jackie leaned in, searching Burrs' face for any sign of emotion. "How do you live each day, thinking that she's going to leave? Isn't it horrifically painful?"

"Yes. I think you can roll the other half of the dough if you'd like, and cover the filling."

Jackie stood. "Right."

It was still considerably early in the evening when Jackie and Burrs finished the pie and went to the deli down the street for dinner. The clocks read five. They were both quiet except to order food, and when they were done eating, they returned to the apartment, still silent.

Jackie could not escape the feeling that in the brief conversation in the kitchen, he had stumbled on a vast expanse of sadness that lurked, and maybe always had lurked, directly under Burrs' guise of anger and sarcasm. And it was in Jackie's nature to pry away that guise, to glimpse at the reality, even if it was ugly and pitiful.

"Pour me a drink, would you?" Burrs muttered as he threw his coat over the sofa in the studio, turned the standing lamp on, and sat down, rubbing his head. "That place always smells so smoky and so much like meat. I forget about that…"

Jackie headed to the kitchen, glancing at the pie that was golden brown on top and coal black underneath, and took two glasses and an unopened bottle of bourbon. "Will this do?" he asked as he came to sit beside Burrs, who was slowly turning the radio dials for better reception.

"That's fine," Burrs muttered, not even looking up. "Do you like music?"

"Yes."

"Classical?"

"Yes, for the most part. No operas about death though, those are disgustingly depressing, don't you agree?" He opened the bottle and poured the contents into the two glasses.

Burrs shrugged, taking the drink and swallowing half. "I like them. They're dramatic."

"Well, I won't argue about that…"

"Do you think Kate's cousin might be a ruse for her to get Queenie away… to meet a new lover?"

"I think you don't need to wonder about those things," Jackie sighed, "And this is a blasted death opera. Can I find the news? Anything but this…"

"No. Leave it. I like it. We made your pie, let's listen to my so called death opera."

"Fine… fine… More to drink?"

"Yes." Burrs finished his first glass and held it out to Jackie to re-fill. Jackie did quickly.

"Also," Jackie muttered, "I think you might be happier if you didn't worry so much about what Queenie did in her spare time."

"Are you suggesting," Burrs asked slowly, a frown deepening on his face as he drank in contemplation, then set the glass down quickly, "That I let her have her affairs?"

"I think that you shouldn't worry if she does. In the end, whose bed will she be in? Yours, Burrs. She'll end up back here, no matter what happens."

"Oh Jackie…" Burrs laughed slightly, "You're one of those people who don't love anything, really. You have no idea how painful it is to be in love. How much it means to have someone who you can call your own. Jackie, that's what it is."

"If control is all you want, get a house pet," Jackie grumbled. "Doesn't sound like much of a relationship. And from what I gathered this morning, it's not very pleasant."

Burrs took the bottle and disregarded his glass. "Why are we talking about this? Find the news if you want."

"No, the opera is fine. I don't mind. Pass me the bottle, yes?" They sat silent for a while, just passing the bottle back and forth and listening to _La Bohme_ as it came out scratchy on the radio, filling the studio, but frighteningly personal. "Are you really in love?" Jackie asked quietly, turning to face Burrs, "Queenie, that is."

"I don't know," Burrs muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "I think it's love. I call it love, but who can tell? Have you ever been in love, Jackie?"

"Once. But it didn't last."

"I'm sorry I said you didn't love… It's not true. Even self-absorbed, egotistical people like you must have a heart."

"You're drunk, aren't you?" Jackie asked, grinning.

"I must be."

"How can you not know if you love someone?"

"I want her so much, I would die for her, but I can't seem to be nice to her when she's here. God, Jackie. I can't even function sometimes. The thought of her just… vanishing is so damn painful. I had no control of anything until I came to New York. No control in my family, no control in my relationships… And yes, it was gratifying to be working, but she… She deserves so much that I can't give her, and I don't want her to know that she deserves more, or she won't want to put up with everything I make her suffer through. I just… I have to keep control on something, don't I?"

Jackie nodded thoughtfully, carefully studying Burrs' face; the way he stared at the radio with something like nostalgia in his expression. "Do you love her, though?"

"Yes. No. Stop asking me stupid questions and pass me the bottle."

"We're almost out."

"Then I'll finish it off." He did, the liquor flashing slightly in the dim yellow light.

Jackie leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "What are you so worried about, Burrs? With your relationship. Don't you think that constantly expecting the end only hastens the end?"

Burrs shook his head, "I only go by what she gives me. I'm going to bed. Was the couch fine for you last night?"

"Yes. A little cold."

"Well, use my coat as an extra blanket. I'd give you one, but we don't really have extras."

"Good night, Burrs."

"As good as it can get, Jackie."


	4. Promise

A/N: I really had no idea how to end this... But here we are. Finis! And, like... 9 pages. Longest fan-fic I've ever written. Nobody told me that The Wild Party would be so stupidly addicting when I first discovered it...

* * *

Chapter 4

Jackie pulled the turkey out of the oven with bright red oven mitts while Burrs opened the can of cranberry sauce and poured it into a cereal bowl. "This smells like it might not be as burnt as our pie."

"I told you I can cook."

"Strike me down if I ever doubted. How's the coffee coming along?"

"Slowly."

"At least it's coming, hm?"

Burrs grinned wryly, "You're not the one with the hangover."

"I'm also not the one who drank excessively last night," Jackie said with a smile, setting the turkey in the pan on the counter.

"Yeah, yeah… don't remind me. We never did hear the end of _La Bohme_…"

"You really wanted to? The death opera aficionado wasn't just an act?"

"Well, I've heard it before, but I rather like the end. And I'm not a death opera aficionado, that's a term you use for bull-fighting. Don't compare operas with bull-fights. Really, Jackie…"

Jackie grinned, "Don't you think they could be the same thing? The rush of a bullfight comes primarily from wanting to see who will die. Does an opera not hold you the same?"

"No," Burrs said flatly, "Because I've heard them before. And I've never seen a bullfight, so I wouldn't know. Those are things for people like you. People with money watch bullfights."

"Fair enough. The coffee?"

"Patience, dear!" Jackie laughed.

Burrs flinched slightly, "Not so loud, alright?"

"Right."

"What time is it, anyway?"

"Near to noon. You slept late."

"And the better for it. Does turkey really require that stuff?" Burrs eyed the cranberry sauce suspiciously. "It looks like hell."

Jackie shook his head, sighing. "It's good. You have to trust me. It makes the turkey flavorful. You can't say you want a proper Thanksgiving and then turn around and say that one of the most time honored traditions looks like hell. I'm surprised at you."

"I'll try it, it just doesn't look all that appealing."

"Have some faith, would you?"

"Faith…" Burrs laughed slightly as he poured himself a cup of coffee and stared out the window at the half an inch of fresh snow on the ground. The day was perfect for staying inside and giving thanks for whatever one had. It was cold enough to frost the windows, and the light-bulb of the sun hid behind the lamp-shade of the clouds, from which dim grey light streamed out like radio waves with no reception.

Jackie set the table, watching Burrs out of the corner of his eyes. What could he have been thinking? Such deep contemplation apparent and such a pensive expression… In truth, Burrs was only thinking about how he would have preferred the pie warm, but did not feel like risking re-burning it in the oven in some kind of attempt to re-heat it.

As the two sat down at the table, Burrs lifted his coffee mug and smiled. "I propose a toast?"

"Oh?" Jackie looked up curiously, "Then let me get a cup."

Burrs looked at the turkey sitting on the table amidst no decorations or festivities. This was a meal, and maybe that was all it was. Perhaps it had been wrong to add such emotional attachment to a day centered around… well… a damn turkey. Queenie could have her meal at anyone's house for all it really mattered… Jackie sat down and tapped slightly on the table to shake Burrs out of his reverie.

"Hm? Oh. I propose a toast to a meal with family…" he hesitated slightly, avoiding eye contact, "And friends."

Jackie smiled broadly. "Thank you. Now, let me show you how this 'sauce of hell' works. You see…. Give me the knife, I'll cut a piece off of this monster."

"You were the one who suggested getting it…"

"Well," Jackie laughed, "You know what you'll be eating for the rest of the month, that's for sure!"

Queenie and Kate showed up late that evening. The sun had begun to set behind the city-skyline, turning the sky orange, red and streaked with the grey smoke of fire-places and factory emissions. Jackie and Burrs were washing dishes and wrapping turkey in tin-foil.

"Are you two really doing housework?" Queenie exclaimed before she even closed the door behind her.

Burrs turned quickly, setting the foil down. "Welcome home."

Queenie grinned broadly, "I found a wonderful thing that I think you'll appreciate, Burrsie. Kate, should I show him?"

Kate nodded, but her expression was one of distaste as she focused on Burrs. "Go on, Queenie. Let's see if he gets it."

Queenie tossed her bags on the floor and rummaged through them before pulling out a long, olive-green gown with a high, frilled collar and the general shape of a paper bag. "Do you like it?"

Burrs stared for a moment before grinning wryly. "I'll have to send you out more often so you can have an excuse to wear that sin against all that is beautiful."

Kate nodded shortly in approval and then called out to Jackie. "Are you going home?"

Jackie set the plate in the soapy water and shrugged. "I suppose so. Burrs, thank you for letting me stay. I'll ride home with Kate."

"Alright. You didn't bring any luggage did you?"

"No. Have a good week, alright?"

Burrs nodded, "As good as I can make it."

"That's the spirit."

Jackie and Kate left together, the chill from the open door appearing and vanishing just as quickly as they left. Queenie stood with the nightgown draped over her arm and surveyed the kitchen. "What's this?" she asked, pointing at the pie, which was nothing but a mess of red and black.

"Cherry pie," Burrs replied nonchalantly, "Would you like a piece?"

"Maybe later. How was your functioning level this weekend?"

"Fine. I dealt. What was Kate's cousin like."

Queenie smiled, "Ugliest girl I think I've ever seen. I swear, she must have been one of the side-show attractions in a circus. Bearded lady."

Burrs grinned, "That must have been odd."

"Yeah. But she made good food."

"I'm glad you had fun."

"Really?" Queenie turned in surprise, "You never say stuff like that. What, did a day with Jackie make you stop caring?"

"No. Not in the slightest. I still love you, darling."

"Love," Queenie whispered as Burrs wrapped her in his arms and leaned his on her shoulder. "Do I really get to go somewhere to wear my ugly nightgown?"

"Only if you promise that you won't change when you know I won't be able to find out."

"Promise."

"Then yes." Burrs kissed her softly and stared into her soft grey eyes. A shade lighter and they would have been the color of the cloudy winter sky. "Go anywhere you want. Just be sure to come back, alright?"

"I promise."

The sun set behind the sky-scrapers, factories, houses and apartments and cast shadows into the kitchen of their flat, darkening an unfamiliar scene of mutual kindness and passion that would become increasingly rare as the months dragged on. But for now, both Queenie and Burrs were happy, and that was enough.


End file.
